Alphabet prompt
There aren't many prompts left at this stage, and the person who left them has been quite gracious in allowing me to be dreadfully slow at writing them.
However, I have to confess something. alice_the_raven, I have tried and tried to write your prompt, and I just can't do it. My newfound bitterness and anger at 24 has apparently ruined my ability to write for that fandom. I am so, so sorry. I'm willing to write anything else you might ask for, in any fandom at all -- just so long as it isn't 24. I'm really sorry. Please let me know what you would like.
For everyone else, your prompts are now officially finished. :-) If you've missed yours, let me know and I can direct you to your story.
Onward now to today's prompt.
H, Humility, Mag 7, Ezra and Josiah
The inspiration for this one struck me today completely out of nowhere. Since it isn't often that I feel I have Josiah's voice right, I hurried to scribble this down while I could -- and wrote it in about fifteen minutes at work. It wanted to go on longer than this, but somehow this ending feels right. Consider that this takes place a few weeks after the episode "Serpents."
Only a fool would disturb Josiah when he had been drinking all day, and Ezra liked to believe that he was nobody's fool. But there was nobody else who might take this cup from him. The other members of his fair band of merry men were in Eagle Bend, assisting Judge Travis with prisoner transport. Only Josiah and himself had remained behind. And unless he wanted to face Chris's wrath when they returned - which he would prefer not to do - he had to get Josiah safely off the roof.
The preacher had been up there most of the day. Periodically Ezra had left the cool shelter of the saloon to verify Josiah's whereabouts. Hour after hour, nothing had changed. Josiah simply sat on the church roof. Not working. Not doing much of anything, really. Just sitting, knees upraised, big hands dangling between them - except for when he was lifting a bottle to his lips. Which was often.
With a blend of annoyance and trepidation, Ezra now climbed the ladder to the loft. Like most of the church, it was in a sad state of disrepair, but the boards beneath his feet were steady and he trusted them to bear his weight. Josiah was responsible for many things, but no one could ever accuse him of shoddy workmanship.
The trapdoor leading out to the roof was open. Ezra stepped out onto the shingled surface, then grabbed at his hat as an errant gust of wind tried to remove it from his head.
It was getting late; in the west the clouds were beginning to shade pink and orange, and the light had taken on the strained quality indicative of the day's drawing to a close. His shadow stretched out long before him as he carefully climbed across the slanting roof to sit beside Josiah.
The former priest did not even glance up at him. An empty bottle lay flat, propped up by his left foot, thus prevented from rolling off the roof and smashing onto the ground below. He smelled strongly of whisky.
Ezra looked down at the town. It wasn't often that he had such a view of Four Corners. Most recently he had seen it from the balcony of Nathan's clinic, but that hadn't been near as high as this was. Additionally, he had always found it hard to appreciate aerial views when recuperating from a gunshot wound.
The minutes drew out, lengthening equally as long as the shadows in the deepening dusk. The color in the sky grew bolder. Next to him, Josiah continued to stare blankly ahead.
For once at a loss for words, Ezra said nothing. Even at the best of times he had never really felt as though he understood the preacher, and the memory of their recent confrontation in this very building still rankled. In truth he wasn't even sure that his presence here was doing any good. For all he knew, Josiah was perfectly capable of making it back to level ground without breaking his neck.
Then again, it was always a good idea to have a backup plan in place.
He opened his mouth to say something - what, he didn't know, except that it would surely be witty and appropriate - when Josiah turned his head. "What do you want, Ezra?"
The weariness in Josiah's voice was an unpleasant surprise. The instantaneous, cutting retort died on his lips. Instead, with exaggerated innocence, he said, "Why, merely to ascertain that you retain enough possession of your faculties to reach the ground unscathed."
Josiah made a sharp sound of contempt. "Yeah."
"So," Ezra said, determined not to lose his temper, at least not until he was on solid ground again, "what brings you out here on the entirety of this fine spring day?"
Josiah looked away, contemplating the western sky now ablaze with color and light. "Sometimes I need a reminder," he said.
"Of what?" Ezra asked.
Josiah tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "Of how small I am," he said. "That though I may think I am mighty, I am but insignificant in the eyes of the Lord."
Unless it suited him for a con, Ezra was never very comfortable discussing religion; there was no money in it. He squinted at the sinking sun, then let his gaze rove over the buildings down below. People passing in the street glanced up at them, then looked away again, silently accepting the curious behavior of the men who had chosen to safeguard them. Several of them had approached him during the afternoon, asking him if he knew why Josiah was on the roof - but not one had dared to suggest that Josiah was doing anything wrong. There had been honest worry in their inquiries, nothing more.
"Well," Ezra drawled, "although I have claimed to speak for the Lord in the past, in this particular instance I must admit to ignorance. However, I can promise you that the citizens of this fair town think of you as anything but insignificant."
After a long, silent interval that seemed to last for an eternity, Josiah cracked open first one eye, then the other. Slowly he lowered his chin. He looked over at Ezra. Then he grinned.
When Josiah smiled like that, it usually meant something dire was about to happen. Vaguely alarmed, already plotting the nearest - and quickest - escape route from his current position, Ezra said, "May I ask what is so funny?"
Josiah shook his head. He was still smiling, but he didn't look scary anymore. The dying light was liquid in his eyes. "The Lord works in mysterious ways," he said solemnly. "Revealing wisdom in the most unexpected places."
Recognizing that the crisis was over, Ezra stood up, balancing lightly on the inclined surface of the roof. He dusted off his trousers and straightened his cuffs, taking meticulous care with the task, keeping his eyes averted, allowing Josiah time to recollect himself. "I would not expect it again, if I were you," he advised. "You know what they say. Lightning only strikes once."
Josiah threw back his head, roaring with laughter.
Ezra offered his hand, bracing his weight on his back heel, preparing to be pulled nearly off his feet. "Come on, my friend. The night is young, and my works of charity are only just beginning."
"Off to the saloon, I take it?" Josiah asked.
"But of course," Ezra said with a sly grin.
"Might be I'll join you there," Josiah said. "In a little while."
Ezra withdrew his hand. He knew his offer had not been spurned out of any bitterness. He tipped his hat. "Good evening, then. I'll see you later."
Josiah just smiled a little, looking somewhat mysterious himself. "G'night, Ezra."
******
However, I have to confess something. alice_the_raven, I have tried and tried to write your prompt, and I just can't do it. My newfound bitterness and anger at 24 has apparently ruined my ability to write for that fandom. I am so, so sorry. I'm willing to write anything else you might ask for, in any fandom at all -- just so long as it isn't 24. I'm really sorry. Please let me know what you would like.
For everyone else, your prompts are now officially finished. :-) If you've missed yours, let me know and I can direct you to your story.
Onward now to today's prompt.
H, Humility, Mag 7, Ezra and Josiah
The inspiration for this one struck me today completely out of nowhere. Since it isn't often that I feel I have Josiah's voice right, I hurried to scribble this down while I could -- and wrote it in about fifteen minutes at work. It wanted to go on longer than this, but somehow this ending feels right. Consider that this takes place a few weeks after the episode "Serpents."
Only a fool would disturb Josiah when he had been drinking all day, and Ezra liked to believe that he was nobody's fool. But there was nobody else who might take this cup from him. The other members of his fair band of merry men were in Eagle Bend, assisting Judge Travis with prisoner transport. Only Josiah and himself had remained behind. And unless he wanted to face Chris's wrath when they returned - which he would prefer not to do - he had to get Josiah safely off the roof.
The preacher had been up there most of the day. Periodically Ezra had left the cool shelter of the saloon to verify Josiah's whereabouts. Hour after hour, nothing had changed. Josiah simply sat on the church roof. Not working. Not doing much of anything, really. Just sitting, knees upraised, big hands dangling between them - except for when he was lifting a bottle to his lips. Which was often.
With a blend of annoyance and trepidation, Ezra now climbed the ladder to the loft. Like most of the church, it was in a sad state of disrepair, but the boards beneath his feet were steady and he trusted them to bear his weight. Josiah was responsible for many things, but no one could ever accuse him of shoddy workmanship.
The trapdoor leading out to the roof was open. Ezra stepped out onto the shingled surface, then grabbed at his hat as an errant gust of wind tried to remove it from his head.
It was getting late; in the west the clouds were beginning to shade pink and orange, and the light had taken on the strained quality indicative of the day's drawing to a close. His shadow stretched out long before him as he carefully climbed across the slanting roof to sit beside Josiah.
The former priest did not even glance up at him. An empty bottle lay flat, propped up by his left foot, thus prevented from rolling off the roof and smashing onto the ground below. He smelled strongly of whisky.
Ezra looked down at the town. It wasn't often that he had such a view of Four Corners. Most recently he had seen it from the balcony of Nathan's clinic, but that hadn't been near as high as this was. Additionally, he had always found it hard to appreciate aerial views when recuperating from a gunshot wound.
The minutes drew out, lengthening equally as long as the shadows in the deepening dusk. The color in the sky grew bolder. Next to him, Josiah continued to stare blankly ahead.
For once at a loss for words, Ezra said nothing. Even at the best of times he had never really felt as though he understood the preacher, and the memory of their recent confrontation in this very building still rankled. In truth he wasn't even sure that his presence here was doing any good. For all he knew, Josiah was perfectly capable of making it back to level ground without breaking his neck.
Then again, it was always a good idea to have a backup plan in place.
He opened his mouth to say something - what, he didn't know, except that it would surely be witty and appropriate - when Josiah turned his head. "What do you want, Ezra?"
The weariness in Josiah's voice was an unpleasant surprise. The instantaneous, cutting retort died on his lips. Instead, with exaggerated innocence, he said, "Why, merely to ascertain that you retain enough possession of your faculties to reach the ground unscathed."
Josiah made a sharp sound of contempt. "Yeah."
"So," Ezra said, determined not to lose his temper, at least not until he was on solid ground again, "what brings you out here on the entirety of this fine spring day?"
Josiah looked away, contemplating the western sky now ablaze with color and light. "Sometimes I need a reminder," he said.
"Of what?" Ezra asked.
Josiah tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "Of how small I am," he said. "That though I may think I am mighty, I am but insignificant in the eyes of the Lord."
Unless it suited him for a con, Ezra was never very comfortable discussing religion; there was no money in it. He squinted at the sinking sun, then let his gaze rove over the buildings down below. People passing in the street glanced up at them, then looked away again, silently accepting the curious behavior of the men who had chosen to safeguard them. Several of them had approached him during the afternoon, asking him if he knew why Josiah was on the roof - but not one had dared to suggest that Josiah was doing anything wrong. There had been honest worry in their inquiries, nothing more.
"Well," Ezra drawled, "although I have claimed to speak for the Lord in the past, in this particular instance I must admit to ignorance. However, I can promise you that the citizens of this fair town think of you as anything but insignificant."
After a long, silent interval that seemed to last for an eternity, Josiah cracked open first one eye, then the other. Slowly he lowered his chin. He looked over at Ezra. Then he grinned.
When Josiah smiled like that, it usually meant something dire was about to happen. Vaguely alarmed, already plotting the nearest - and quickest - escape route from his current position, Ezra said, "May I ask what is so funny?"
Josiah shook his head. He was still smiling, but he didn't look scary anymore. The dying light was liquid in his eyes. "The Lord works in mysterious ways," he said solemnly. "Revealing wisdom in the most unexpected places."
Recognizing that the crisis was over, Ezra stood up, balancing lightly on the inclined surface of the roof. He dusted off his trousers and straightened his cuffs, taking meticulous care with the task, keeping his eyes averted, allowing Josiah time to recollect himself. "I would not expect it again, if I were you," he advised. "You know what they say. Lightning only strikes once."
Josiah threw back his head, roaring with laughter.
Ezra offered his hand, bracing his weight on his back heel, preparing to be pulled nearly off his feet. "Come on, my friend. The night is young, and my works of charity are only just beginning."
"Off to the saloon, I take it?" Josiah asked.
"But of course," Ezra said with a sly grin.
"Might be I'll join you there," Josiah said. "In a little while."
Ezra withdrew his hand. He knew his offer had not been spurned out of any bitterness. He tipped his hat. "Good evening, then. I'll see you later."
Josiah just smiled a little, looking somewhat mysterious himself. "G'night, Ezra."
******